I don't normally sleep much past six or six-thirty. By that time, my bladder is crying to be emptied, the dog wants to go out (Willy Dog does that) the cat wants attention... So sleeping any later just doesn't normally work all that well. lol
So, yesterday. Was a bad day. I had a major food freakout. I ended up in front of my pantry cabinet with a big can of Pic Nik sticks in one hand, shoveling them as fast as I could with the other into my mouth. I was just shoving, chewing, swallowing and repeating until half a can was gone.
What. The. Fuck?
It felt desperate. Crazy. Bad. Sick. Weird. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't shut it down. I heard my brain screaming at me to stop. I wanted to stop. I needed to stop but I physically couldn't stop. Until I reached a point where I could. I was, for that time, utterly out of control. I was crazed in my determination to cram as much of those nasty fried potato sticks into my mouth as I could, as fast as I could and for as long as I felt I could get away with it.
I am not beating myself up over it. I am very mindful that I did some damage. And my number on the scale will reflect it on Sunday. I am puffed up like a poisoned rat, thanks to all the salt. And I feel like an abject failure. I am working though it all and I will carry on.
Food is much better, today. I am on track. Water is going down nicely. I will end the day over my quota. I worked out hard on my glider. Three miles, seventy minutes. Hopefully, I burned enough calories to help atone for my insanity, yesterday. Maybe Willy Dog will be in the mood to run out to the lake, when he gets home from work. A walk would be good. Burn a few extra calories and give me a chance to blow the shit out of my head and breathe some fresh air.
So folks, there you have it. I struggle, still. I wish I had the fortitude and the balls to never cheat. To never eat what I am not supposed to. To never find myself in front of my pantry, mind screaming, shoving food into my mouth like some person possessed. But alas, I don't. I strive for it. But I fall far short. I am not good enough, it seems. I am weak. I am flawed.
I wish I were perfect.
Life would be so much easier.
It is cooler, today. Kind of windy and partly cloudy. The promised rain is not coming down. It might, tomorrow. I am not holding my breath.
I think I'll give my husband a shout and see if he wants to go to the lake. If he does, I'll go get into my walk clothes and lace on my walking shoes. The more I think about it, the more I really do need to get out there.